When I was nineteen, during a scorching summer, I left everything behind to run away with Armani. Through tears, young Armani promised he'd never let me down. Seven years later, in the heart of winter, I was diagnosed with cancer while Armani celebrated his childhood friend's birthday.

Leaving the hospital, I stepped into the season’s first snowfall, clutching the thin paper with my stomach cancer diagnosis in one hand and my phone in the other, debating whether to call Armani. Our last conversation was still on the screen, dated a week ago. After his childhood friend, Vienna, returned from abroad, we had a big argument and had been giving each other the silent treatment. He barely came home anymore. Staring at my empty contact list, I realized I had no one to turn to. The doctor's words echoed in my mind—I had only a few months left to live.

After a long pause, I dialed Armani’s number. The phone rang endlessly; unsurprisingly, no one picked up. Cold wind mixed with snowflakes hit my face, chilling me to the bone. I quickly pulled out a scarf to wrap around my neck. Maybe it was psychological, but ever since I got sick, I was much more sensitive to the cold. The scarf was a simple white one, with a cute little teddy bear carefully stitched at the end. Armani had knitted it himself as a special gift for my eighteenth birthday. That winter, it was all the rage in our group to knit scarves for your significant other. I was hopeless with my hands, my fingers pricked red with every attempt. Armani, worried, wouldn't let me continue knitting. But on my birthday, he wrapped his own handmade scarf around my neck.

The warmth from the scarf surrounded my neck, and suddenly, I felt an intense longing to see Armani.

Armani's office was near the private clinic where I had my check-ups. When I arrived, it was late afternoon, yet the company was eerily quiet, with no one at the reception desk. The elevator took me to the top floor, directly to the CEO's office.

The usual stark industrial decor was transformed with pastel balloons and flower petals. Strings of multicolored fairy lights were everywhere. Employees gathered, cheering, with Armani and Vienna at the center, both smiling. Vienna wore a pink, Victorian-style dress topped with a hat shaped like a birthday cake, beaming with joy. They looked so perfect together, like a fairy-tale prince and princess.

Vienna glanced up and noticed me, then looked at Armani, surprised. I stepped inside, breaking the celebratory atmosphere like an uninvited guest.

"Happy birthday, Vienna," I said, then turned to Armani. "Why didn't you tell me it was Vienna's birthday? I didn't bring a gift."

Before Armani could respond, Vienna spoke up with a sweet smile, pulling out a pink scarf adorned with little teddy bears from behind her back.

"No need, Mikayla. Armani already gave me the best birthday present."

I looked at the scarf, which was identical to the one around my neck, except for the color.

Suddenly, a chill swept over me. I gazed at Armani with a sense of melancholy, but Armani merely gave Vienna a resigned smile.

"Don't be upset, Mikayla. Vienna saw your scarf last time and found out that I had knitted it, so she begged me for a long time."

"I figured her birthday was coming up, so I made it for her."

Vienna looked at me with innocent eyes.

"Mikayla, you won't be angry, right? I just thought this scarf suited me so well." She wrapped the scarf around her neck, her eyes sparkling as she looked at Armani.

Suppressing the nausea swirling in my stomach, I forced a smile. "Why would I be angry?"

I yanked the scarf from my neck, leaving a red mark, and casually walked over to Armani. Carefully, I draped the scarf around his neck.

I then smiled at Armani. "See? You both wearing it together looks just right."

Armani frowned with disapproval and removed the scarf, handing it back to me.

"Mikayla, don't make a scene. It's Vienna's birthday."

I didn't reach out to take it. It wasn't special anymore, just like me.

With a steady gaze, I looked at Armani. "I'm not making a scene, Armani. Congratulations to you both for a lifetime of happiness together."

Without waiting for his response, I turned and left.

Funny, even though the first snowfall had stopped, I felt colder than ever.

When Armani came home that evening, he brought me a necklace. It was the latest design from a high-end brand, very pricey and elegant. Still, it wasn't my style. There was a lingering, sickly-sweet scent of spiced honey cake clinging to him.

"Don't be upset, Mikayla," he said, "I've only ever thought of Vienna as a sister."

Armani grew up in a foster home, and Vienna’s mother ran the place. They grew up together until they were separated when Vienna’s father took her abroad at fifteen.

"Mikayla, you're the one I love the most. Please, believe me, won't you?"

He hugged me from behind, his warm chest radiating a comforting heat. So many times, I had believed him without hesitation. Yet now, I paused.

I took the necklace from him and went to wash up, saying nothing. When I came back, I found Armani lounging on the couch, looking at ease as he chatted on the phone.

"You women just get each other, Vienna. Mikayla really didn't get upset."

"Yeah, Mikayla is amazing in every way, just a bit prone to jealousy. Go easy on her."

I listened quietly to their conversation, clenching my hands until they went pale. When had things between Armani and me changed like this? When did our relationship become a game of deception?

I didn’t know the answer. I glanced at the necklace resting on the vanity and walked over, tossing it into the trash without a second thought.

Stomach pain kept me awake late into the night. I could hear Armani's steady breathing behind me as I tried to stifle my groans. From the corner of my eye, I saw something gleaming. The necklace lay in the trash, casting a faint silver light. Just like my silent tears.